


For This I Would Be Eternally Damned

by feyrebreathingbitchqueen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, bellamy is a demon, clarke fancies the pants off him, clarke is an angel, idk i guess marie antoinette fancied bellamy?, literally just the good omens AU that nobody asked for, they're in love, they're not meant to be in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-04-12 05:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19125301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyrebreathingbitchqueen/pseuds/feyrebreathingbitchqueen
Summary: "For this I would give up everything. For this I would be eternally damned."or the one where Clarke is an angel who's never felt the touch of a man (but she's about to touch a demon).





	1. God, Shakespeare was a lech

**Author's Note:**

> I am obsessed with Good Omens at the moment so that's how this happened. I think it'll be around 3 chapters but who knows? Also, I know nothing about wine throughout history... did they have good red wine in the 1700s? Anyway suspend your disbelief if they didn't.

Clarke has wandered the Earth since its creation. Head office don’t check up on her anymore. A couple of miracles here, a lot of good deeds day to day, fill in the paperwork and they pretty much leave her to it. She’s happy on Earth. She loves books and music and food. She’s even really rather fond of human beings. They’re always striving for something bigger, something better. She admires that.

She’s in London, about to perform her big miracle of the month. Something to do with gang violence, she’s just going through the motions at this point.  
“Fancy seeing you here angel.” a voice purrs from behind her.  
She doesn’t bother turning around, she’d recognize that arrogant drawl anywhere. Won't give him the satisfaction of catching her off guard.  
“Hello Bellamy.” she answers coldly.  
“Now now” he tuts “Not still mad at me about that whole thing in the 80s, are you?”  
She whirls around.  
“You killed a Beatle Bellamy” she hisses “I loved the Beatles.”  
She hasn’t seen him in 40 odd years, but she’s heard all about his devilish antics. Cults and drugs and murder, the usual shtick. He looks better than he did in the 80s though. His dark curls are cut short and he suits the plaid trousers and black leather jacket combo that he’s sporting. She vaguely notes that he looks very handsome, but as soon as she’s let herself admit that she shoves the thought to the back of her mind. Shoves it into the box where she keeps all of her sinful thoughts about Bellamy. Not that there are many. Well... not that many. 

“Oh I barely had anything to do with Johns death.” Bellamy sighs, leaning on one shoulder against the door frame of the abandoned building she’s currently standing in. The very definition of sexy dishevelment.  
Not sexy she reprimands herself, just sinful. Sinful and bad and nothing she wants anything to do with.  
“Anyway” he continues “I made up for that. I created the Jonas Brothers just for you angel.”  
She rolls her eyes.  
“And then you broke them up.” she says.  
“Ah” he holds up a finger “but then I got them back together again.”  
“I suppose that was for me too.” She turns away from him, walking further into the house, trying to find whatever she’s meant to be fixing here.  
“Well I had to do something” Bellamy growls “You haven’t spoken to me in 40 years. I was getting bored.”  
“I shouldn’t be speaking to you at all” She says “You’re a demon Bellamy. I’m an angel. We can’t be friends.”  
Bellamy’s footsteps stop behind her. She tries to keep walking and leave him there, but she turns around instead.  
“I know I’m a demon sweetheart, but I don’t understand this sudden decision to cut me off. We might not be friends, I don’t have friends anyway. But we’ve had this...thing since the beginning. You don’t like me, I don’t like you, but we help each other out now and then. Dare I say even have fun together sometimes.” 

He almost looks hurt. But she knows better than that. Demons don’t have feelings. He feels nothing for her, so her fondness for him is entirely useless.  
She looks around the room. Deliberately not looking at Bellamy. Where the hell was this damn miracle that needed performing. Why was she here? She couldn’t see a thing that needed fixing. It was just an empty building.  
“I already performed the miracle” Bellamy says “call it a gesture of goodwill. I miss you angel.”  
She blinks.  
“Oh.”  
He tilts his head to one side, giving her a look that might be endearing if it weren’t for his jet-black eyes.  
“Come to dinner with me?”  
“Fine” she sighs.

He reaches out a hand and she takes it. She takes it and it means nothing, but it also means everything. 

At the beginning, when they’d first become friends or whatever they were, she was scared that god was watching her, that she was going to be cast out of heaven for associating with a demon. As she’d gotten older she realized that not only had she already been cast out but also that no one was watching her at all. The reports she sent were probably left unread, no body contacted her. After all, she wasn’t doing much good. What was one angel against the greed and selfishness of the human race. She might be fond of human beings, but they were killing the Earth, the planet that she had wandered for so many years. She wasn’t sure what she’d do when it was all over. When the antichrist finally arrived and brought hell on Earth. Nobody expected her to stop it, just to be here when it happened. When the Earth was reduced to ashes and bones she didn’t know where she’d go. Would she be welcomed back to heaven with open arms? Or would she be expected to walk through the rubble of humanity until they returned. They would eventually return and then the whole process would begin again. Son of god, antichrist etc.

She lets herself imagine sometimes, in the depth of night, what would happen if she was here on an empty planet. But in the depth of night, Bellamy is with her. They walk the Earth together. The two of them. Just as it’s always been. But now there are no humans, no battle between good and evil. They’re not an angel and a demon. They’re just Bellamy and Clarke. They’re Bellamy and Clarke and they’re happy. 

“Come on” Bellamy says softly, pulling her hand slightly.  
“Where are we going?” She asks.  
“I’m cooking for you.”  
She stops dead. Pulling her hand from his.  
“I am not coming to your house.” She hisses, blood rushing to her cheeks “not after last time.”  
Bellamy throws up his hands.  
“How was I supposed to know they’d still be there?” He exclaims “the orgy was winding down when I left at 6am.I couldn’t have possibly known they’d all still be there going at it at 7pm... 4 days later.”  
Clarke takes a deep breath and tries to will her cheeks to stop flushing. Her blood runs silver not red and so when she’s embarrassed her cheeks glow. It usually only happens around Bellamy.  
“Now now Clarke. No need to be embarrassed. Although you are awfully cute when you blush. Sex is a perfectly natural part of life on Earth. Although your lot don’t tend to indulge, do they?”  
“And you indulge too much.” She snaps.  
“Jealous princess?”  
“Most certainly not. And I told you not to call me that. I didn’t even marry that Prince in the end.”  
“Only because I rescued you.”  
“I’d hardly call that a rescue. I couldn’t go back to Paris for 300 years after that.”  
“I did bring flowers though.”  
She pokes him squarely in the chest. He chuckles at that, the same way you’d laugh at a small dog who thinks they’re the scariest thing on legs.  
“Yes, you did bring flowers, flowers that you then threw at the angry mob chasing us. What good you expected that to do is beyond me.” 

He steps towards her, she steps back automatically and her back hits a wall. He brings his arms to rest either side of her and brings his face close to hers. Her breath catches in her throat.  
“Should I have just left you there to marry him then?” He asks.  
Then he brings his face even closer, his lips right next to her ear.  
“Would you have bedded him if I hadn’t come?” He whispers.  
“No” she breathes.  
“Why Princess? Because sex and lust are sinful?” He says, a hint of bitterness coloring his voice.  
“No because he was ugly.” She says primly and shoves Bellamy away from her. She catches him off guard and he falls backwards. Landing hard on the floor. He looks up at her with a look of disbelief. She thinks he’s just shocked that she dared to shove a demon. She also thinks he’s about as scary as a duckling. Sure, he might be evil and sinful and blah blah blah, but he’d never hurt her. If he hurt her he’d be all alone down here. The last 40 years had been lonely to tell the truth, but she had needed some space. Needed some time to compartmentalize. To shove him back into the box clearly labelled off limits. John Lennon had been an incredibly convenient reason to do just that. 

“So if he hadn’t been ugly?” Bellamy asks, still on the floor, sat up, long legs spread out, as if it was his decision to be there.  
“I don’t know Bellamy. Does it really matter?”  
“You don’t know?” He really looks shocked now “I thought that was strictly forbidden for your kind.”  
She gives him a sharp look that means drop it or else. But he just keeps looking at her like he’s never seen her before. Like she’s a complete stranger.  
She bites her lip. A nervous tick. She’s been spending too much time with humans.  
“It’s not like anyone’s checking up on me anymore.” She finally says.  
Bellamy almost chokes. His black eyes flicker a little.  
“Naughty angel.” He crows.  
“Oh shut up” she huffs “or I won’t speak to you for another 40 years.”  
He jumps to his feet nimbly and holds out his hand again.  
“Come on then, I’ve got a whole case of that red you liked in Italy in the 1700s.” 

Bellamy’s house is beautiful. It’s by the Thames, three story’s, wild and exotic garden and best of all, a rooftop pool.  
“Bellamy! This place is gorgeous.” She yells from living room which is an eclectic collection of his favorite decor. A sofa from the 1800s, a modern tv, mirrors she recognizes from his house in 1920s New Orleans.  
He saunters into the room holding two very large glasses of red wine.  
“I cannot believe you still have a case of this.” She says taking the glass from him.  
She takes a large sip and almost lets out a moan. Bellamy smirks at her.  
“As good as you remember?”  
She greedily takes another large sip.  
“Better.”  
The wine is rich and spicy and it goes to her head almost immediately. She feels all of the years fall away with each sip and before she knows it, she feels as if the 1700s yet again. That was a good century for them, they spent the first 100 years together in Italy, the most time they’ve ever spent together. They’d spend their days performing their respective miracles and curses and their evenings together drinking and laughing. Even when they went their separate ways later in the century, they ran into each other a lot and it was like no time had passed at all.  
“I’m not meant to do this either you know.” She says holding up her empty wine glass.  
“Sully your body with alcohol?” he asks, pouring her another.  
“Yup. It’s a sin for angels. Italy in the 1700s with you was the first time I ever touched a drop.”  
“Glad I could help corrupt you.” He winks at her and she resists the urge to blush.  
They sit at opposite ends of the large sofa, big enough that they can face each other and be nowhere near touching.

They sit and drink for hours, reminiscing about centuries past.  
“Oh god I forgot how much she fancied you.” She chokes out through tears of laughter.  
“The woman was insufferable” he growls “I said Marie, I cannot save you from this bloody peasant uprising and even if I could, I have absolutely zero inclination to do so. And do you know what she did then? She tried to have me beheaded. In the middle of an uprising.”  
“God do you know who was a lech? Shakespeare. Unbearable man, didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.”  
“I didn’t know that.” Bellamy takes a sip of his wine “I would have cut his hands off for you.”  
“Ah but then he never would have written Hamlet and you know that’s one of my favorites.”  
Bellamy rolls his eyes.  
“No great loss.”  
Clarke rolls her shoulders and stretches out her legs, plonking her feet into his lap. He starts to rub her feet.  
“That’s not very demonic of you, a footrub I mean.”  
“We both know I’m not particularly demonic when it comes to you.” He says without looking at her.  
She doesn’t dare answer, they’re treading on dangerous ground here. Coming close to saying things neither of them are meant to ever say out loud.  
“I’m not very angelic around you.” She whispers.  
Bellamy suddenly becomes very interested in a spot on the window behind her.  
“The apocalypse is coming soon.” He says eventually, still not making eye contact.  
She hums noncommittally. He digs his fingers into a particularly tender spot in her foot and she lets out a sigh.  
“What I mean” he begins “is that none of it is going to matter soon enough. The world will end and down here it won’t matter whether I’m a demon or you’re an angel. It hardly matters now.” 

He pauses as if he’s trying to swallow his next words. She hardly dares breath. If they were walking on dangerous ground before, now the ground has opened and they’re falling together through the abyss. She can still see the light though, she could get up off the sofa and leave. Go back to her cosy flat and sober up, cook some food since the food Bellamy had promised never materialized. But she doesn’t move.  
“It’s never mattered to me.” he says, finally fixing his eyes on her.  
She says nothing.  
“Do you know how many miracles I’ve performed for you?” he spits, she knows he’s angry at himself not her. “I’m a bloody neutered demon, following a fucking angel around the world.”  
“It’s not like you’re the only one who’s changed Bellamy.” She stands up and walks over to the window “I’m not meant to drink, I’m not meant to swear, I’m not even meant to think about sex. And I’m most certainly not consort with demons.”  
“Consort” he scoffs “Is that what this is? Consorting.”  
He walks over to the window and turns her by the shoulders so she’s facing him.  
“And it’s not my fault if you’re thinking about sex Princess.” He’s so close she can feel his breath on her cheek.  
Clarke’s heart is beating so fast and so loud she’s sure it’s going to beat right out of her chest. She can still leave. She can still leave. She can still leave. She’s not damned yet, she’s not done anything that god wouldn’t forgive her for. She could leave and never look back. Except she can’t.  
“It doesn’t matter to me either. It did but it doesn’t anymore, none of it.” She says, looking into his eyes.  
“Tell me to stop.” He pleads, leaning in, reaching up one of his hands and cupping her cheek.  
“I don’t want you to stop.” She whispers, not daring to say it any louder.  
His eyes search her face, looking for any hesitation. He doesn’t find any.  
And then his lips are on hers and they’re soft and he’s kissing her so gently that she almost cries. She’s kissing him and she forgets that it’s a sin, she forgets everything except the feeling of his breath mingling with hers. Their lips fit together so perfectly that they must have been made for this. It defies everything she’s been told but she feels like she was made for this moment. She’s lived her entire life, performed miracles and worshipped at the alter of god and this is her reward. Bellamy is her reward.


	2. Rip My Wings Off (And Hang Them On The Wall)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this isn't even a proper chapter... but i feel bad i haven't updated yet. I've never written smut before and its going slowly. sO I thought I'd post this bit to show you I am working on it. AND THEN next chapter they'll finally knock boots or whatever (sorry i just watched footloose and now i'm speaking in southern cliches). So enjoy my loves and feel free to offer smut writing tips.

His tongue brushes against her lips and she opens her mouth. His tongue flicks against hers and she lets out a soft moan. Bellamy instinctively steps closer at the sound, crowding her against the wall until she can feel his body pressed against hers. He buries one of his hands in her hair, the other still on her cheek and tilts her head to get a better angle. His lips and tongue on hers are a fucking religious experience and she can’t help but wonder what else they can do. They kiss for what feels like hours, until Bellamy pulls away and rests his forehead against hers. They’re both breathing heavily. She can feel that she’s dripping wet and he’s only kissed her. She swallows, suddenly self-conscious about the fact that she has no idea what she’s doing. All of this is completely new to her.  
“Hey” Bellamy says softly “Where’d you go?”  
“I don’t know what I’m doing Bellamy.” She blushes.  
“We don’t have to do anything other than this.” He gives her a soft kiss on the forehead.  
“I want this Bellamy. I want more than this.” She says “I’m just scared.”  
Bellamy brings his hand to her chin and tilts her face up to his.  
“Me too” he admits and kisses her gently.  
“You’ve done this plenty of times before” she scoffs.  
“Never with you.”  
She kisses him this time, taking control, emboldened by the knowledge that he’s just as scared as her. She runs his tongue against the seam of his lips and licks into his mouth when he opens it. He keeps one hand on her face but brings the other to her hip, pulling her against him. They’re pressed together so closely she thinks she could just melt into him.  
She bites his lips and he groans and pushes his hips against hers. She gasps at the sudden pleasure. Bellamy pulls away again panting and she whines at the loss of contact.  
“You said you’d thought about sex.” He says “Sex with me?”  
Her cheeks turn bright silver but she nods.  
“Tell me.” He groans and begins kissing down her neck.  
She sighs with pleasure and he bites her shoulder.  
“Please.” He murmurs.  
“The fight we had in New Orleans in the 1920’s.” she tilts her head back and he continues to kiss and bite and lick her neck. It feels so good she feels she might burst into flames right there and then and he hasn’t even taken her clothes off yet.  
“I don’t even remember what it was about” she continues “I’d never allowed myself to think about you like that before, or not in depth anyway. Truth is I’ve known I was attracted to you since the beginning, but this was the first time I hadn’t been able to shove those thoughts aside.”  
Her breath hitches as he sucks a particularly sensitive spot just above her collar bone.  
“Like I said I don’t know what we were fighting about but I remember how good you looked, you were wearing a suit, but you’d lost the jacket at some point and you had rolled the sleeves of your shirt up and I couldn’t stop staring at your arms. Anyway, we were screaming at each other in the middle of some alley and you were so mad at me. You shoved me against the wall and kept me there with your hands on either side of my face and you told me if I got in your way again that century you’d rip my wings off.”  
He stops kissing her neck.  
“You’re not serious?” he laughs “that’s when you though about fucking me, after I’d just threated to rip your wings off? You’re seriously twisted angel.”  
“Let me finish” she says “The way you pushed me up against that wall, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how strong your arms felt on either side of me. I went home that night and touched myself to the thought of you fucking me against that wall.”  
She’s bright silver now, hardly able to believe she’s just said that out loud.  
“Fuck” Bellamy groans and kisses her fiercely, biting at her lip and pushing her back against the wall.  
“That is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard” he says in between kisses.  
Clarke is going to combust, burst into a pillar of heavenly flame in his arms. She wants to burn and burn and never stop burning. She wants Bellamy to burn with her.  
“So, are you going to?”  
Bellamy stills against her, burying his head in the crook of her neck, breath coming in short gasps.  
“Am I going to what angel?” he murmurs.  
“Fuck me against the wall.”  
She feels his cock twitch in between her legs. He lifts his head and looks her in the eyes. She’s never seen him look as beautiful as he does now, face soft with lust and love, lips red and swollen. If she wasn’t in love already she’d fall just looking at him.  
“As appealing as that sounds angel, this is your first time, it’s going to be in my bed. There’ll be plenty of time for that, we have all the time in the world.”  
Clarke’s knees almost buckle underneath her. She knows somewhere in her heart or soul, or wherever the hell her angelic intuition comes from, that this is the first time Bellamy has invited someone into his bedroom. She nods, not trusting her ability to form words in this moment.  
Bellamy smiles at her, all teeth and sinful eyes and scoops her up in his arms. She yelps in surprise and he silences her with a kiss. 

They slowly make their way to his bedroom, stopping every few seconds so Bellamy can press her against the wall. They eventually make it there and even in her lust filled haze Clarkes heart stops.  
The room is covered wall to wall in mementos of their time together. Masks from the time they spent in Venice, photos of them in the first ever photo booth and in pride of place above the bed a painting of a pair of white wings.  
“Bellamy..” she whispers.  
“Is this too much?” Bellamy can’t look at her, she swears she can see a blush dusting his cheeks.  
“Bellamy it’s beautiful.” She can feel tears running down her cheeks.  
“You are my humanity angel.” He sets her on the bed gently and wipes away her tears.  
“I love you Bell.”  
He nudges her legs apart with his knee and kneels down on the floor in front of her.  
“I will never stop loving you Clarke, I regret nothing I have ever done because all of it led me to here, with you.”  
He rests his forehead against her own.  
“Now let me show you how much I love you angel.”


End file.
